This Is No Love Story
by Daughter Born of Darkness
Summary: The majestic Titanic has set sail on her maiden voyage and all seems to be going well aboard ship. This is, until crew members go disappearing and the officers soon learn that a killer is lurking around the ship and is specifically targeting the officers. With no way to contact help, it's up to the officers to not only save the passengers but themselves as well.
1. Rumors With A Side Of Bacon

" _I'm killing them all_

 _I put my soul on the line_

 _I purify sins that I committed in life_

 _I follow them all and I'll be bringing them down_

 _Wherever they go, I'm right behind_

 _There's nowhere to go_

 _Your head on the line_

 _There is no rope_

 _You're running out of time_

 _So where will you go when I will murder your soul?"_

 _ **\- Within Temptation, Murder**_

The early morning sun spilled its golden beams upon the city of Southampton on April 10th, 1912. Fifth officer Harold Lowe was already up and at 'em along with third officer Herbert Pitman with whom he was scheduled to stand watch with throughout the ship's maiden voyage. The fourth and sixth officers, Joseph Boxhall and James Moody, were still sound asleep. "Ahh, today's the day." Herbert said with a big broad smile that complemented his mustache. "It's gonna be a good one." Harold responded, very much looking forward to setting sail on the Atlantic that day. "Did we ever get those lifeboats lowered?" Asked Pitman. "You know how the Board of Trade is rather testy regarding safety regulations."

"No question about that." Harold remarked. "And no, not yet. I was going to have Moody assist me in lowering them."

"Well, Mr. Moody is still asleep. The sooner we get those boats lowered, the better."

"Yeah, I should probably go wake him up."

"Good luck. That fellow sleeps like a rock. A tornado wouldn't be able to wake him up."

"He's a hard worker. You have to give him credit for that."

"True."

Harold turned, walking down the bridge, through the wheelhouse and down the corridor to the officer's quarters where James slept. He was envied a little by his fellow officers as he was given his own personal cabin as compensation for his small salary. Harold knocked on his door. "James? You awake?" No answer. Harold knocked once more before cracking the door open. He peered in to find the 24 year old sprawled out on his bed, completely zonked out. "James? Yoo-hoo, Jimmy." Harold attempted to wake him but clearly using his voice was not an adequate approach. Harold entertained the memories of when his brothers would punch him hard in the upper leg, resulting in a charley horse. He decided to test his own strength on the sleeping officer. "Okay, James. You made me do it." He stepped up to the officer's bed, pulled his arm back and, with as much strength as he could muster up, slammed his fist into James' upper thigh. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Moody yowled. If Harold had any way of recording such a cry, it would surely make an effective fire alarm.

"Harold, you git!" Moody shouted, clutching his upper leg. "I tried waking you up nicely but you didn't even stir." The fifth officer said with a prideful little smirk. "It's your own bloody fault." The younger officer grumbled as he stretched out his leg to relieve that nasty contraction one experiences during a charley horse. "Now that you're awake, I'm going to need your assistance in lowering the last couple of lifeboats."

"Thought that was already taken care of." Moody muttered.

"Nope, not yet. Thought I'd come and ask for your assistance."

"After you just bruised my leg?"

"Yep."

"Ugh, you plonker."

"I'll meet you up deck in 10 minutes. I'll make it up to you by making you breakfast myself, how's that sound?"

"Not nearly as satisfying as letting me kick you in the arse but it'll do."

Harold chuckled before returning back to the deck to prepare the lowering of the lifeboats. A few minutes later, James showed up on deck. "Ah, there you are." Harold said. "I'm a bit surprised it didn't take you the full 10 minutes to get here."

"Hardy har har." James mocked. "Are we going to lower these lifeboats or not?"

The two tended to their duties regarding the lifeboats and began working. "Something I've been meaning to ask you," James said as he and Harold lowered the first lifeboat. "What was all that hullabaloo about a few days ago between Smith and the other officers?"

"Not sure." Harold replied. "All I heard was that another officer was dropped entirely. David Blair I think his name was."

"What did they drop him for?"

"Don't know. Sounded like they just found someone more suitable for the position."

"Hmm. I mean, that's fair enough if you think someone can do the job better but I can imagine that would leave a person rather scorned."

"You think?"

The two officers remained quiet throughout the remainder of their task until the second boat had been lowered. "Well, that's taken care of." Harold said, dusting off his hands as he walked back in the direction of the bridge. "Ahem!" James interjected. Harold turned around. "What?" James casually pointed in the direction of his stomach, sending the subtle reminder that Harold promised him breakfast. Harold caught the hint right away. "I did promise I'd make you breakfast, didn't I?" A smug grin appeared across James' face as he slowly nodded. "Fine." Harold sighed as he and James made their way to the galley. "Eggs over easy topped with bacon sounds nice right about now." The sixth officer said deliberately attempting to get on Harold's nerves. "The key word being topped. Eggs are plated first and then the bacon is placed on top, or at least that's how my mother did it. She also would place two strips of bacon vertically and then two horizontally. It would just look nicer when she drizzled the maple syrup on top. Oh, and she usually had toast or hash browns on the side as well."

"Did she ever sock you in the head before serving you breakfast?" Harold grumbled.

"No, but she would kiss me on the cheek right when she served me." James replied with an even more smug grin.

"Oh, I'll kiss you on the cheek alright." Harold muttered. "I'll kiss you with my palm."

The two officers entered the galley to find it unoccupied. "That's odd." James said. "Usually the chef is here by now."

"I thought _I_ was making you breakfast." Harold remarked.

"Oh, trust me, I was holding you to that. I just think it's strange that he wouldn't be here."

"Maybe he's still asleep. Now, where are the eggs?"

Harold opened the pantry door to find a bundle of eggs and some bacon. He cooked the eggs and bacon as per the little nuisance, er, James' request. He sliced up some rustic sourdough and placed them in a separate pan to toast up. The aroma of the galley made his stomach gurgle as he just realized he had not eaten breakfast himself. His fellow officer checked the cabinets in search of a bottle of maple syrup.

While searching through the pantry he located something very much out of place. "Um, Harold?" He said with slight confusion in his voice. "Yes, I'm keeping an eye on the eggs." Harold replied sounding annoyed. "Actually, that wasn't it." Harold turned his head to see James standing there holding up a pick axe. What was a pick axe doing in the galley? "What's that doing here?" Harold asked, perplexed. "Not sure." James replied. "Maybe someone was in a hurry to get their work done and they just left it here?"

"But why would they leave it in the galley of all places?"

"Beats the bloody hell out of me."

The two officers were baffled but decided to shrug it off. "Well, if someone did misplace it we should just leave it here in case they come back for it." James said as he propped the pick axe against the wall. "Alright, breakfast is ready." Harold said, plating the eggs and bacon in the way James had described. Or more like demanded. Harold had fixed a double portion for himself. As he set the plates down on the small table behind him James emerged from the pantry with a bottle of maple syrup.

"I hear they import that stuff straight from Canadia." Harold said.

"Canada, you pillock." James corrected.

"Whatever, it's a Canadian."

Harold poured a couple of glasses of milk for them both. The two sat down to their breakfast. "Probably should have asked first but do you think the chef would mind two officers dining in the galley?" James asked as he poured maple syrup over his eggs and bacon. "I doubt it." Harold answered as James passed the syrup over to him. The two officers indulged in their breakfast, not exchanging another word between the two of them. As odd as James' breakfast choice sounded, Harold was quite surprised by how delicious he found it to be. Harold and James downed the last of their milk leaving nothing but their cleaned plates in front of them. The two got up from their chairs and washed off their dishes before heading back to the wheelhouse.

"Ready?" James asked as he straightened out the collar of his shirt. "As I'll ever be." Harold replied. People were already starting to gather at the docks either waiting to board, bid farewell to their loved ones or just watch Titanic set sail on its maiden voyage across the Atlantic.


	2. Lost And Found

At noon on the spot, the Titanic's horns blared, signaling its departure from Southampton. Massive crowds of passengers flooded the decks to wave farewell to their friends, family and hometown. Some were smiling with glee, others teary-eyed. The ship of dreams pulled away from the docks as it proceeded forward on its maiden voyage. Meanwhile, up on the bridge, Harold was standing on his watch as quartermaster Hitchens steered them out to sea. Herbert stood beside Harold on their watch as the last little bit of Southampton slowly disappeared from their sight.

The day carried on as expected. A few hours later, James and Joseph Boxhall relieved Harold and Herbert while they stood watch. Later that evening, Titanic docked at Cherbourg where another load of passengers were brought aboard. The ship then sailed on overnight towards the city of Queenstown, Ireland. As the sunlight died in the distance the ship's wireless telegraphist, Jack Phillips, approached Harold and Herbert as they stood their evening watch. "Hey, have either of you seen Harold Bride anywhere?" Herbert turned around, looking rather confused as to why Harold Bride would not be nearby but he also did not recall bumping into Bride at all that, despite knowing he was in fact on board. "No." He said. "Have you checked his quarters?"

"Yes, I've checked all over for the man."

"Nowhere?"

"Nowhere."

Herbert was a little more astounded by Mr. Bride's absence. Harold, on the other hand, knew that Bride was prone to wonder when on new territory. He was aware that he was the adventurous type. "I definitely know he's on board." Harold said. "If he doesn't show up for work tomorrow, I'll wail on him a bit." Jack stood there for a moment of uncertainty before returning to his station.

Silence swarmed the wheelhouse after that. It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop so it goes without saying that James' thunderous footsteps approaching caught the attention of Harold and Herbery. "Bloody buttery hell." He muttered. "What's got you twisted now?" Harold asked.

"You're not going to believe who I ran into."

"Who?"

"Olivia Mosley."

Harold raised an eyebrow. "Your former fiancée? What would she be doing here?"

"Not sure."

"Did she see you?"

"No and thank God. I'd rather not have to look at her again."

"Might I ask why?" Harold knew better than to stick his nose into the private lives of others but when some good, hearty drama presented itself, he simply couldn't resist tuning in. "She just left me." James said. "Just out of the blue. No warning, nothing to suggest she was unhappy in our relationship. Just one day… she called it all off. Never even gave me a chance to ask why. She just said we weren't working out, gave me her ring and then just left."

"Wait, she didn't even tell you why she left?" Herbert interjected.

"No. She just told me it was over and was out of there before I could even say anything."

"Any possible motives you might be able to think of?" Harold asked.

"Nothing that really holds water." James answered.

"Maybe she was just a little trollop." Herbert said. This particular assumption did not sit well with James at all. "She was not a trollop. She was a decent woman who said herself she was saving herself up for our wedding night."

"So you have no idea what could have caused her to split from you?" Harold pressed on.

"None at all."

"Well, I don't know what to say. You win some and you lose some."

James let out a huff before sluggishly dragging himself back outside. "Ouch." Herbert whispered. "That's never a good way to call off a marriage."

"He loved that woman more than he loved himself." Harold said. "He's still coming back from that." Returning back to their watch, Harold continued to ponder what could have become of Bride. While it was true that he was someone who enjoyed conducting his own little tours around new terrain, he was always the more attentive one, never missed a beat and always showed up for work in a timely fashion. It just occurred to him that he only ever saw him once this day and that was when he boarded the ship so he knew he was somewhere on board.

Meanwhile, James stood outside leaning over the rail with his eye fixated on the nearly pitch black horizon. As calm as he appeared outside, he was screamingly livid inside. It wasn't so much that she left him but it was the way she left him. No explanation or anything. Just a quick "I don't think this marriage is a good idea. I'm sorry but I'm leaving" before forcing her ring into his hand and storming away. He knew he would have been hurt at any rate but it would have hurt him considerably less if he only knew what caused her to make such a sudden decision. He tried looking on the bright side. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe this was a sign she just wasn't for him to begin with. Maybe someone even better was waiting for him. Who was he kidding? She _was_ the best he could have had. She was for him. How could she not be? They had so much in common and could spend hours, even days, just talking and laughing with one another. She would have made the ideal wife. _Would have_. At this point, James was question how loyal she truly was to him if she would just take off like that.

"James?" He spun around at the sound of a feminine voice speaking his name. Well, speak of the devil. If it wasn't Olivia herself in all her glory. "Oh, uh… hi, Olivia." He stammered. He didn't want to come off as rude but he was certainly not exactly happy to see her. "I was hoping we could talk a moment." She said.

"About what?"

"Don't play dumb, James. You know why I came to talk to you."

"Well, surly whatever it is we could have talked about already."

"Please don't be bitter with me."

"You say that like I have no reason to be bitter."

"No, no. You do. I just was hoping we could take a civilized approach to this."

James released a sigh, attempting to center himself in the hopes that he wouldn't fly off the handle. "Alright." He said finally. "What do you want to talk about?"

"About why I left you." She replied. He figured as much. "Look, I… I understand how much your career means to you. You're a career-driven person and I can respect that but I just don't think I could handle separation for several weeks at a time. This is a job that requires you to take leave for extended periods, I just don't think I could deal with that in the long run."

While he understood where she was coming from, he didn't fully understand why she left him as abruptly as she did. "Okay… but why couldn't you have been more upfront about that in the first place?"

"Because, I just didn't know how to word it in a way that wouldn't discourage you."

He scoffed at this. "So you pulled off your ring, handed it to me, told me it's over and walked off? You think that isn't discouraging?"

"Well, I didn't -" He put up his hand to cut her off. "No." He said. "You could have told me this and all would have eventually been fine but instead you kept me in the dark."

She was becoming rather angered now. "Well, what did you expect from me?" She spat. "To sit at home with a toddler pulling at my skirt, an infant on my arm while nearing the end of a third pregnancy all the while you're galavanting all over the ocean for several weeks at a time only to come home with a £28 salary?"

"I reiterate, something that could have brought to my attention then!" His voice was growing louder.

"Mr. Moody!" James heard someone call. Charles Lightoller was standing behind him looking bewildered. "What is going on here?" James paused a moment before responding, looking back and forth between his fellow officer and his angered former love. "Nothing." He replied calmly. Charles knew better than to assume it was nothing but he decided not to delve into affairs that were not his own. "Well, your assistance is needed on the bridge." He said before turning around and walking away. He took one more look back at Olivia before shaking his head and storming off. "James!" She called after him. He stopped and snapped around to face her. "This discussion isn't over. I hope you know that."

He had no desire to continue any discussions with her anymore. "Drop dead." He growled before turning his back and stomping away from her.


	3. Killer Headache

_***Author's note: This is where it starts to get a bit gory. If you're someone who is squeamish, this story may not be for you.***_

Still in a funk over his encounter with Olivia, James made his way back to the bridge. He could practically feel steam coming from his ears. Just as he approached the bridge, Herbert came bounding from around the corner with a flashlight in hand. "Hey, what's the rush?" James asked. "Harold Bride, the chef and Reginald Lee don't seem to have been accounted for but several officers swear that they've seen them aboard this ship." Herbert explained. It did occur to him that he hadn't seen any of them today. In fact, it didn't look like the chef had been in the kitchen at all that day. "Well, it's a massive ship." James said. "They've got to be somewhere. They've probably found a little hide-out in cargo somewhere and are busy throwing back ales and playing poker."

"Hope they saved me a glass."

"I'd go with you but my watch is about to start."

"That's alright. Harold just hit the sheets so I'm off on my own on this one."

"Alright. Be careful down there."

"I will."

On that note, Herbert was off to find out where the bloody hell his crew members have could have wandered off to. He decided his best bet would be to start from the bottom and work his way up. While he had no reason to assume they were in the engine room, you know how the saying goes: Always in the last place you'd look.

He entered the engine room to find it mostly empty, save for a scant few engineers. "Excuse me?" He said to a young fellow walking by. "Have by chance seen three gentlemen coming through here?" The young man chuckled. "Sir, there's always gentlemen down here. You'll have to be more specific."

"I'm looking for three men. One dressed in chef attire, one in a white shirt and black vest and another dressed in all dark." The young man shook his head. "No, sorry sir. That doesn't ring a bell." Bugger. "Alright then." Herbert said. "Carry on." He decided to give a quick scan of the engine room anyway. Again, no logical explanation behind why they would be down here but better to be thorough. As his search continued on, Herbert began to feel a bit more alone in the massive room. As he walked on, he heard what sounded like a piece of metal hitting another. He stopped and turned around to investigate. "Hello?" He called out. No answer. He assumed that maybe it was just one of the engineers and carried on with his business.

Carrying on with his business, Herbert continued his search of the engine room until all bases had been covered. No sign of any of them. Not surprising. Next stop was cargo.

Back at the wheelhouse, James and Joseph were standing watch while the night winds softly whistled outside. James raged in his head over his earlier confrontation with Olivia. Of course, he was not a pro at keeping things in his head for long. "I still can't believe she expected me to forgive her for what she pulled." Joseph sighed. "James, I think you're dwelling a little too much."

"Well, have you ever had a person just drop everything and leave you without an explanation?"

"No, but you're gonna have to move on. It's not that I don't appreciate where your anger is coming from. You're justified in your emotions but it's over, what's done is done. Besides, didn't she apologize?"

"Not really. She just explained why she left."

"Okay, well shouldn't that offer some sort of solace now that you know?"

"She just made it sound so wrong that I'm an officer. She went on about me being away for weeks at a time and being alone."

"Have you ever taken into consideration that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't for you like you thought?" Joseph continued. "Relationships, particularly marriage, are very complicated things. You have to learn to agree to disagree, you won't see eye to eye on everything. This isn't me saying you're not ready for marriage. It just sounds like she isn't. If she can't understand there's bound to be hiccups along the way, she wouldn't make a good wife. So don't worry about it. You're better off finding a lass who gets that."

James had nothing to say. Joseph was right. He himself had alway been a bit of a stubborn mule and clung to his emotions like a small child might cling to their blanket but he had to swallow his own salty pride on this one. "In the meantime," Joseph continued on. "I'd fancy a cup of tea right about now." James scoffed. "Of course you would. Alright, I'll be back in a moment." James decided a cup of tea sounded good right about now as well.

Not wanting to be away from his post for too long, James hurried toward the galley to prepare a pot of tea. As he began heating up the water, I searched around for the tea bins. For some reason, this was a special talent James had; never being able to find the tea. It was always someone else finding it before he did. After peering through the cabinets, he decided to venture into the nearby pantry. Bingo, found it. "The curse has officially been lifted." James joked to himself. As he was about to begin steeping the tea, he noticed that the pick axe that he and Harold had found earlier was nowhere to be found. He checked the pantry, seeing if it was in there. Nope, not in there either. He didn't think too much of it, someone must have come to retrieve it.

Meanwhile, down in cargo, Herbert continued his search. Like with the engine room, he didn't figure they'd be down here mostly because only officers were authorized to enter cargo during a voyage unless otherwise granted permission. Much of the cargo was set up in a way that there were "hallways" between freight, allowing for a person to move around safely and efficiently. Herbert traced up and down through the freight, hoping to locate someone. "Anyone down here?" He called out. No reply. This was going to be a long night for him.

As he passed through several boxes of freight, he noticed what looked like a hand print on one. It looked like dried up blood. He thought maybe one of the loaders had hurt themselves while handling freight but then noticed what looked like fresh blood smeared on the adjacent box. Wanting to be sure, he ran his fingers through the smear. It was definitely blood but why would there be blood on the boxes? It couldn't possible be from any meats. All meat aboard the Titanic was promptly stored in the ships freezers and this was definitely not the thawing room.

Before he could continue his investigation he heard what sounded like the interior door open and close with a sharp screech and then a slam. It had to be another officer. No one else could have access to cargo unless approved by an officer. A few seconds later, he heard a clattering sound similar to what he had heard in the engine room, only this time he could also make out the faint sounds of footsteps. He wasn't sure if this was an officer playing a prank on him but he could feel his heart racing in his chest. "Someone there?" He called. The footsteps stopped. All was silent for a moment. Then came a loud thud sound, like someone had smashed a mallet into one of the boxes. Herbert jumped at the sound, debating on whether to confront whoever was doing it or hide.

The footsteps started again, only this time the footsteps became louder, signaling that they were coming toward him. Not knowing what to do, he took off down through the freight in an attempt to escape whoever was coming his way. In a panic, he dropped his flashlight and began searching around for a place to hide. He could hear the footsteps still approaching. His eye caught something that looked like a place he could hide out in. There was a space between a load of freight and the wall that was just big enough for him to squeeze into. There was also an opening at the end that he could easily push through to get to the door if he needed to make a quick escape. Just as he had wedged himself into his space, ensuring he was out of sight, a figure came around the corner and looked frightening as ever.

Whoever it was was dressed in dark brown and horribly filthy overall, a brown and black stripped shirt underneath and had was appeared to be a gas mask covering their face. They were bald and had what appeared to be the remnants of horrible gashes to the back of their head. In his hand, he carried a rusty pick axe and the tip was clearly stained with blood. Taking notice of this, Herbert's eyes widened with fear and his hands started to tremble severely. He wanted to run but he was afraid of making any noises that might give him away. He held his breath as he watched this inhumane looking figure search about for him. As Herbert watched him continue to move between freight and out of sight, he saw this as the opportunity to make an escape.

Slowly, so as not to create much noise, he inched his way between the freight and wall to the other side. Once over there, he squeezed his way out and made a run straight for the door only to find it jammed shut. He couldn't bang on the door to call for anyone's help, that would give him away fast. He turned the handle again and pressed against it with all his might, hoping that it would open for him. No luck. He looked around for an alternative escape route when he heard the sounds of footsteps approaching and this time they were faster.

Thinking quickly, he ran behind a tall box out of sight from whoever that was wielding the pick axe. Peering around the corner, he spotted the man(no question that it was a man)searching around for him, looking in between boxes. He knew Herbert was in there somewhere. He moved about, slipping out of Herbert's sight. With his back against the box, Herbert squeezed his eyes shut, hoping this person would wander off and give him a chance to escape once again. His racing heart beat drowned out the footsteps which gained him nothing for as soon as he opened his eyes, he turned his head to find himself face to face with this gas masked individual.

Herbert let out a yelp of fear as he tumbled backwards away from this crazed man. The man raised his pick axe in the air and swung downward as Herbert quickly rolled away at the last second. Jumping to his feet, he was prepare to fight his attacker. As the man raised the axe above his head, Herbert lunged forward, managing to grab the handle. Between the struggle to subdue the man and the fight for his life, Herbert managed to break the man's grip by violently pushing him against the box. The axe slipped from Herbert's hands and hit the floor with the adze landing right behind his foot, something which would prove to be fatal.

The masked man grabbed the shaft and yanked it toward him, startling Herbert as he lost his balance. Herbert cried out in fear as the man pinned him down on his back with one foot. He just looked down at him for a moment as Herbert begged and pleaded for his life. "No! Please!" He shouted. "Don't! I didn't do anything! Please! No!" The man raised his pick axe in the air as Herbert let out one final blood-curdling scream as the man plunged his axe down, slicing through one side of Herbert's temple and out the other side. His screams were immediately silenced as blood pooled around his now lifeless body.


	4. Finding Pitman

The next morning, second officer Charles Lightoller awoke feeling surprisingly well rested despite the lack of sleep that he had gotten the night before. He sat up, letting out a good long stretch before throwing his legs over his bed. The feeling of the cold floor on his feet startled him awake as he slipped his socks and shoes on. His stomach started to growl at him as if to say "Feed me, Charles! Feed me now!" Obeying his stomachs commands, he stood up and stepped out of his quarters to the galley. As he entered, he found Harold prepping the oven with a tray of apples sitting nearby. "Mr, Lowe, what are you doing?" Charles asked. Harold looked up, his cheeks covered in charcoal dust. "I'm making baked apples." He said. "I figured since there's no chef in this kitchen, I'd take the opportunity to learn how to make them."

"You've never made them before?"

"No, but I've watched others make them. Looks pretty easy."

Charles raised an eyebrow. He knew Harold was not exactly the best when it came to his cooking skills. Even James, who could burn water, was still a step ahead of him in the cooking department. "Well, do keep an eye on them, Mr. Lowe. I'm aware of your history regarding setting meals aflame." James stumbled into the galley, having overheard the conversation. "Now, now, be fair." He said. "They don't catch fire, they just get charred beyond recognition." Charles turned to look at the young officer in surprise. "Mr. Moody, you're supposed to be on your watch."

"I'll head back in a minute. I was just coming to let you know that it appears Herbert didn't come back last night."

Henry Wilde came strutting in right behind Moody. "What's that?" He asked. James turned to him. "Mr. Pitman didn't return to the bridge last night after he went down to look for some missing crew." James explained. Henry had a look of confusion on his face. Harold climbed to his feet. "What do you mean he never returned?" He asked.

"What do you mean what do I mean? I mean he hasn't been seen all day."

"But he's supposed to be on watch with me later."

"If he doesn't show up by then, I'll ask Mr. Murdoch to stand watch with you." Henry said. "But this is getting insane. We've already lost three of our crew, now we've lost an officer?"

"There's a perfectly reasonable explanation, I'm sure." Charles said.

"It had better be a good one." Henry grumbled. "We'll just keep on throughout the day. If there's no sign on them later, I'll have someone search for them." He turned to look at James. "Mr. Moody, would you be so kind as to take the task yourself?" James looked a bit stunned. "With all due respect, I'm a little bit weary about doing so." He said. "We were all aware that Herbert was here and now he's not. That raises quite a few suspicions." Henry lightly nodded his head. "I understand, Mr. Moody." He said. "Which is why I'll be sending Mr. Boxhall with you." On that note, Henry turned around and walked away.

"Sucks to be you." Harold said. "Not as much as it'll suck to be you if you burn down this galley." James replied. Harold turned around to see a cloud of smoke rising from the oven. "Agh! I haven't even put the buggers in yet!" He shouted as he attempted to calm the smoke. Charles chuckled at Harold's predicament. "I should probably stand by and make sure he doesn't torch the place." He said. "Alright, I'm heading back." James announced as he stepped out of the smoke infused galley where he could still hear Harold grumbling away.

James remained uneasy about his assigned task as he knew there was no reasonable explanation for four crew members to just disappear unless they somehow got lost. But Herbert knew the ship well. He couldn't possibly get lost. Something just didn't feel right. Even knowing he would be accompanied in his task didn't make him any less apprehensive.

He returned to the bridge where Joseph stood like a statue. "Has Harold set fire to the ship yet?" He asked. "Not yet but don't be surprised if we're without a galley soon." James answered.

"Hmm. Considering we have no chef, what's the point in having one?"

"Yes, God forbid you learn to properly cook a decent carbonara."

"What's so wrong with my carbonara?"

"An oil company could easily profit off that dish the way you make it."

"Oil is essential in cooking pasta!"

"Not by the gallon, it isn't!"

"Oh, as if you didn't over-salt your baba ghanoush."

"It was my first time making it."

"Hopefully your last."

The two officers quipped among each other for several minutes before James told him they would have to go looking for Herbert that night. "Oh, speaking of chefs, you and I have been given the task of looking for Herbert tonight." Joseph raised his eyebrow. "Herbert didn't return last night?" James shook his head. "No, which is odd considering he knows this ship from top to bottom. There's no way he could have gotten lost."

"Has anyone notified the master at arms?"

"No. I don't want to sound any alarms yet until we know what's going on."

Jack Phillips came around the corner, the same look of concern on his face from the previous day. "Have you located Harold?" He asked nervously. Neither James or Joseph knew how to answer that. Jack was a bit of a shaky cucumber in situations when he didn't know what was going on. It didn't help that they didn't know what was going on either. "Not just yet." James answered. "Herbert's looking for him." Jack looked on, his concerned expression remaining the same. Of course they couldn't tell him Herbert's gone missing now. "When we know something more, we'll let you know." James assured. "Okay." Jack said dryly as he walked away. "Meek little shit, isn't he?" Joseph commented as soon as Jack was out of earshot. James glared at Joseph. "Would you watch that mouth of yours?"

Hours passed as the Titanic sped further from their previous stop in Ireland. Morning turned to afternoon to evening. The night hours slowly began to bleed into the crimson and fuchsia sky. Within a couple of hours, darkness took over. The officer switched shifts several times throughout the day. James and Joseph were finishing up their shift for the evening when Harold and William came out to take over. "Alright, lads." William said. "Since Mr. Pitman has not returned, you two can have the task of finding him."

"Oh, joy." James grumbled.

"How about a little shift in attitude, Mr. Moody?" William chastised before handing the two a pair of flashlights. "You may need these." James and Joseph took the flashlights, bid Harold and William a good evening and went off to track down their fellow officer. "Alright, where to first?" Joseph asked. "Let's start from the bottom and work our way up." James answered.

"You don't suppose it would be a good idea to check any of the smoke rooms first?"

"Why would they be in there?"

"I don't know. Good brandy? Cigars? Poker? Sounds like a man's paradise to me."

"If they were going to skip out on work, they wouldn't do so in a setting where they risk getting caught. I say we start from the engine room."

As the two walked along deck, they were stopped by John Jacob-Astor, who looked confused and disoriented. "Mr. Astor, is something the matter?" Joseph asked. "Yes." He answered. "Have either of you by chance seen my dog?" The junior officers looked at each other and back at John, shaking their heads. "No, I'm terribly sorry but we haven't." James replied.

"Well, if you see her can you kindly bring her back to us? Madeleine is rather upset. She's an Airedale, answers to Kitty."

"Of course, sir." Joseph said assuringly. "We'll keep an eye out for her."

"Thank you both." John said before walking off.

Lovely. Now they had to concern themselves not only with missing humans but also a missing dog. "The work of an officer is never finished, is it?" Joseph said. James shook his head while pursing his lips. "We'll get our rest when we're dead."

With their flashlights in hand and at the ready, the two officers made the trip down the engine room where they were met by the loud roars of the engines. "Shit, it's loud down here." Joseph complained. "Language, Joseph! Language!" James shouted over the engines. The pair spotted chief engineer Joseph Bell and approached him. "Excuse me, Mr. Bell?" James said loudly attempting to get his attention. He turned to look at them. "Yes, Mr. Moody?"

"We were wondering if you had seen Officer Pitman anywhere!" James shouted.

"What's that?" Mr. Bell shouted back.

"Officer Pitman! Have you seen him?!"

"I can't hear you!"

"OFFICER! PITMAN!" Mr. Bell was finally able to make out what he said.

"What about him?!"

"Have you seen him?!"

"No! I think one of the engineers did last night though!"

"Which one?!"

Bell pointed to an engineer several meters away. "He could probably tell you!" He shouted.

"Thank you!" James shouted as he and Joseph walked over to the young man. "Excuse me!" He shouted. The gentleman looked up in surprise to see two officers. "Can I help you?!" He shouted back. "Did you see an officer come through here last night?!" Joseph bellowed. "Yes! He said he was looking for some other crew! I told him I hadn't seen 'em!"

"Do you know where he went after he came through here?!" James yelled.

"I think he went to cargo but that's the last I saw of him!"

"Alright! Thank you for your help!" Joseph shouted before the two exited the engine room, heading toward cargo. "My ears are ringing." Joseph said upon exiting into a quieter setting. "No kidding." James replied. "My throat feels like a desert now from all that yelling."

"Okay, so we know he went to cargo after the engine room." Joseph said. "The only problem now is there's no one in cargo to tell us if they had seen him. We may have to wing it from here on out."

"Well, one thing is for sure." James added. "He did say that Herbert came through looking for people so he was doing his job."

"Well, then where did he end up going?"

"Not sure. I trust we're about to find out."


	5. Bloodbath

On the bridge, Harold and William stood watch together as the Titanic sailed into the pitch black ocean. Strange how the daylight can create such a marvelous and mesmerizing view only for the night to transform it into a eerie sight that sends shivers up ones spine. William brought a cup of tea for him and Harold to enjoy as the night air brought on a bit of a chill. "Thank you, Mr. Murdoch." Harold said, accepting his cup. The pair stood side by side sipping down their tea, making not a sound aside from the light sipping noises. Harold broke the silence. "It's a bit odd, isn't it?" He said. "What is?" William asked. "Four crew members just go missing without a trace. No reasonable explanation or anything."

William did not respond as he didn't really have any response. He was in complete agreement with Harold and had spent the majority of the day contemplating if he should bring the issue to the master at arms. He had decided against it at the risk of generating any unnecessary panic among crew members. Still for four crew members to just disappear, it was so unusual and unexplainable. Still, William chose not to add to the conversation for fear of generating any speculation that may arise. It was better to wait and see what James and Joseph were able to dig up. Provided they came back.

"Apparently, Mr. Moody crossed paths with a former flame of his on board." William said, attempting to change the conversation. "Heard it ended on a rather bitter note."

"Definitely could have ended better." Harold remarked. "He's still pretty resentful over it."

"You don't think James would… you know… out of anger?" William hinted at something more malevolent but was reluctant to use such words and James in the same breath. Harold caught on, surprised at William's suggestion that James would deliberately hurt another person. "I strongly doubt it." He said. "James can be a bit temperamental but he's not one to cause bodily harm to someone."

"I'm not saying he would do it for the sake of hurting someone but sometimes when we ourselves get hurt by someone, emotion can really drive us to edges we didn't know existed. I do recall Lightoller saying that he told her to drop dead."

"I'm sure he wasn't implying she would die by his hand. More likely that she choke on her caviar."

"Ugh. Vile stuff."

"Yes, it is."

Meanwhile, James and Joseph entered a dimly lit cargo. Shadows of freight boxes and such provided an uneasy welcome for the pair. It was uncomfortably quiet and combined with the strange disappearances they were in the throws of investigating, it only made the situation that much more unsettling. James stepped in first, his flashlight clutched tight inside his fist. Joseph followed, loudly shutting the cargo door behind them. James jumped in fright over the slam it produced. Joseph chuckled sinisterly at the young Moody's reaction. "You really need to learn to man up." He said. James rolled his eyes.

The pair began their search through the maze of boxes and massive trunks, just about anything too big to carry on board. As the two carefully searched about, they remained completely unaware of an hidden set of eyes watching their every move, completely out of sight and lusting to sink his axe into their spines.

"I'm having a difficult time believing they would actually disappear into cargo." James said quietly. "Leave no stone unturned." Joseph said. "Besides, what if they thought that we would never find them down here? Next thing they know, we've caught them with cigars in their mouths and cards in their hands."

"Good point, well made." James admitted. The two carried on in their endeavor to find their missing crew members in silence as they thoroughly looked about, remaining blissfully unaware of what was lurking in the shadows, watching their every move.

"I'm just saying, realistically, what are the chances they'd be down here?" James continued on. "I don't know." Joseph replied. "Maybe they have a hidden stash of scotch down here."

"Some scotch sounds nice right about now."

"God, does it ever."

As the two officers searched about carefully, the thickening silence began to feel rather uncomfortable. A pin drop could have been heard from across the room. Joseph decided to break the silence with more conversation to take the edge off. "So, I'm just curious, how long were you and Olivia together for?" As little as James wanted to talk about Olivia, a little sound would offer some comfort in their uncomfortably quiet setting. "About 3 years." He answered.

"That long, huh? Boy when you take things slow and steady you really don't joke around."

"I just wanted to be sure she was right for me. And I was certain I was."

"Mm. It's a shame that she dropped you like that."

Joseph stopped the conversation right there, realizing he was getting in a little deeper than intended. The two continued their search, hoping to find some sort of sign of their missing colleagues. While Joseph remained insistent that they check every square foot of this ship, he did begin to understand what James meant when he said he couldn't believe anyone would dare to hide out in here. The dim lighting combined with the dead silence made for an eerie atmosphere that would surely drive a sane man into insanity. He walked ahead of James, keeping his pace steady while being mindful to keep an open eye or ear about for anything suspicious. A loud clatter sounding from behind him, causing him to near jump out of his skin. He spun around to see that James had dropped his flashlight. The younger officer smirked while chuckling at Joseph's reaction. "You really need to learn to man up." He mocked as Joseph narrowed his eyes at him. "You know those flashlights aren't cheap, right?" He lectured. "I know, I know." James acknowledged. "Even still it was worth it to see you nearly wet yourself."

"Oh, sod off you bumbling bell end."

The two resumed their search with no success in their findings so far. "A part of me hopes they're down here." Joseph remarked. "It would make coming down into this creepy cave worth the trouble."

"And it would cut time off our search." James added.

"What are you in such a rush to get off to? That first class stewardess you were eyeballing earlier today?"

"Cram it, Joseph."

"Ooooh, sounds like Olivia has truly earned her place in the past. Moving on now, are we?"

"I've moved on from her long ago."

Joseph knew that was a crock but didn't feel like debating that with him. "Whatever you say." Before he could tack on a new comment a shuffling sound was heard some distance away. James and Joseph stopped in their feet. "What was that?" Joseph whispered. "I don't know." James answered. "Which direction did it come from?"

"Not sure." Joseph replied. With their guards officially up, the two officers carried on with caution as they kept their ears open for any new sounds. As they moved on they came across a Renault in the sea of boxes and various luggage. "Wait here." Joseph said, stepping away. "Where are you going?" James asked. "I need you to wait here in case anyone should come running." As Joseph walked away and out of sight, James stood by himself, feeling very uneasy about his surroundings. Of course, as an officer of a ship, you're bound to encounter a few unnerving experiences here and there but this particular one didn't feel right to James. Something felt very, very off about the situation at hand. Three crew members go missing. A fourth one who was for sure accounted for goes looking for them and then goes missing as well. Nevertheless, James obeyed the commands given to him and stood by patiently, unaware of what lay hidden in the shadows nearby.

Joseph searched about, slightly anxious. Despite being insistent that he and James check the cargo, he knew full well that no one, aside from officers, were allowed down here unless they had been granted clearance. He kept his ears open for anymore sounds that might give away someone's position with the weak lighting offering very little in the way of visibility although brighter lighting probably wouldn't have done much justice anyways considering the mountains of crates. Joseph was suddenly regretting his decision to carry on alone.

As he passed by a set of crates, he noticed an odd streak across the side. It was red, like blood. It definitely couldn't have been any official markings, it looked more like a smear. With his curiosity piqued, he decided to investigate the box, attempting to rotate it. Good lord, it was heavy. What on earth could have been packed into this thing? As soon as he was able to fully turn it around, he saw something that made his heart nearly skip a beat. There was a red hand print and there was no doubt in Joseph's mind that it was in fact blood. "James!" He called out. "James, I need you here now!" Looking down at the ground, Joseph noticed even more red, bloody-looking smears. He knew it couldn't be any meat products, those were all stored away in the ships freezers. "James!" He called out again. He may have been an officer but he had never been prepared for anything like this. He was unsure if he should open the box and take a look at the contents or if he should bring the issue to the master at arms. "James, where are you?!" He shouted as loud as possible.

"I'm right behind you." Joseph spun around to see the young officer standing behind him with an eyebrow raised. "What one earth has got you into such a tizzy?" He asked. Joseph motioned his head down at the red smears at the bottom of the crate. "What in the name of God is that?" James said, perplexed. "It looks like blood."

"Think we should open in?" Joseph suggested. James mulled this one over. On the one hand, it wasn't their's to open and they could get into real trouble for breaking into cargo that they had no permission to get into. On the other hand, after careful examination, the red smears seemed to coat the base of the crate and the hand print soon caught James' eye. There was no logical reason aside from it being blood stains. Although they both were expected to act accordingly with their training instructions, those instructions included acting upon judgement which left them both conflicted. "I think we should look inside." Joseph said. "We can just hammer it back shut if it's nothing." James gave it some thought and figured to go ahead with Joseph's idea. Conveniently enough, there was a pick axe located near the crate. James grabbed it and was about to use the adze to pry the box open when he stopped and examined it. "Hold on." James said. "This looks like the same pick axe I saw in the galley yesterday morning." Joseph looked at the tool, recalling he had also seen it yesterday in the galley. The two officers stood absolutely bewildered. Suddenly, there was a rustling sound and it sounded close by. Startled, James dropped the axe and the two officers held up their flashlights, shining it around the shadowy areas and hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that made that sound. Neither of them wanted to show it but their confusion had quickly dissolved into fear.

"Maybe it was one of the cats?" Joseph whispered, trying to conceal the fact that he was indeed becoming terrified. They both knew, however, a cat wouldn't cause a sound that loud. They slowly moved their flashlights around, hoping for any signs of whatever it was they were looking for. James' light stopped on what looked like a gas mask between the gap of two boxes. He didn't remember seeing it before but it looked like someone had just propped it there to look like someone was staring at them. He nudged Joseph. "Do you remember seeing that?" He asked motioning to the gas mask. Joseph shook his head. "No. Why?" Before James could answer, they both saw the mask abruptly disappear behind the boxes. The two of them jumped with fright. "Let's get out of here!" Joseph yelled.

The two began a hasty retreat in fear. Joseph looked over his shoulder to see a human figure emerge from behind the crate they were just inspecting. The figure donned the gas mask they were just looking at. The two stopped running and turned to look at this goliath that stood before them. Whoever it was picked up the axe, jammed it into the crate and practically ripped it open. The bloody remains of Harold, the chef, Reginald, Herbert and John Jacob Astor's beloved dog, Kitty, fell to the floor in a heaping, blood-drenched mess. James and Joseph stood absolutely shocked for a moment when this massive figure began moving towards them, carelessly stepping on the bodies of the deceased in the process. "Run for it!" Joseph yelled as the two took off. In their panic, the pair became disoriented and began running all the over the place, eventually becoming separated while trying to find an exit.

Coming to his senses for a moment, James realized that he had gone astray from Joseph. Thinking quickly, James slid between two large crates that were stacked behind two hefty freights of cargo which offered small are in which he was able to crouch down and hide. A small crack between freights offered him a slim view outside his hiding spot. He hoped, with any luck, that he might catch a glimpse of Joseph. As he monitored his own breathing to ensure it didn't sound too loud, he could hear heavy footsteps coming his direction. His heart threatened to jump out of his chest. As the footsteps drew closer, he could hear what sounded like heavy breathing. He clasped his hand over his mouth only to realize it wasn't him making that noise. It sounding as if someone were breathing into a mask. James put two and two together right away, realizing this brute could only be a mere few feet away. His palms began to sweat with anxiety as the figure of this madman appeared before his eyes. With a pick axe in hand he slowly walked about, peering about, looking for any signs of the officers who had dodged his pick. James silently prayed, hoping that whatever happened to him his family would at least be able to recognize him at his burial.

James felt so incredibly small and feeble as this stocky-looking man stepped closer to him. From the little slit he had been watching through, he saw something that provided a very small wave of relief. On the other side, peeking from behind a tall box was Joseph. James was at least relieved to know that he was still alive and hadn't abandoned him. His relief was, however, short-lived when he heard this colossus' footsteps stop abruptly right next to where he was hiding. His heart dropped in that second, wondering if he had somehow been discovered. Holding his breath, he could hear the heavy breathing of this savage. Seconds felt like hours until he finally started walking away. James quietly let out a sigh of relief. He peered back through the small gap, unsure of how to get Joseph's attention without giving himself away. He contemplated just running out as quickly as possible and running Joseph's direction but that just sounded foolish. Plus he was unable to see where this psychopath had walked off to. For all he knew, he could still be in cargo. Still, James didn't want to Joseph to think that he had just abandoned him. Carefully tuning in to the sounds around him, he listened closely for any sign that this masked killer would be nearby. He heard nothing. He figured the coast was clear and that he could slip out, run over to Joseph and the two could escape.

James decided to stand up, hoping Joseph would see him. He sucked in a huge breath and promptly stood up. Almost as soon as he was to his feet, he was eye level with this masked maniac, glaring at him through his mask. "Jesus!" James yelled as the madman lifted his axe and swiftly swung it at him. James dodged the pick at the last second, letting out a cry for help. James quickly squeezed his way through the crates he had pushed through before and made a run for it. He turned his head to see this lunatic running toward him. Acting on instinct, James decided to bolt for the door. At this point he was afraid to turn back.

As James neared the cargo hold doors, he heard a loud thud behind him followed by a grunt. He turned to see Joseph tackle this crazed man to the ground. "James, grab the axe!" Joseph hollered as he attempted to pin him to the ground. Just as James was reaching for it, the psycho managed to grab hold of the handle and slam the adze into James' palm, slicing through his gloves. He released a wail of pain as blood poured from his wound. "James, help!" Joseph yelled, claiming back his attention. He was struggling to hold this monster who kept flailing the axe around, attempting to hit Joseph. Without thinking twice, James used his knees to pin down his arm and pry the axe from his hand. Joseph held him down by the neck, applying pressure to his windpipe. His movements began slowing until they stopped all together. Suddenly, he went limp. "Is he dead?" James asked. "I don't know." Joseph said, crawling off of him. The two officers slowly stood up, James dropping the axe. "What do we do now?" Joseph asked.

"We need go to the master at arms." James answered.

"Alright. We should let Ismay know as well. He'll need to prepare the letters to the families."

"Right."

James gasped as the sting of his wound shot through his hand. "You should get that cleaned up." Joseph suggested. "It could get infected."

"Very well."

James stood looking down at the body, questioning the identity of the person behind the mask. "Do you think we should take his mask off?" He asked.

"Why?" Joseph inquired.

"Just to know who it might have been."

"What's the point? They were a murderer. Does the world really need to know his name?"

Before James could respond, the seemingly deceased came alive, grabbed Joseph by his leg and pulling him down. As he climbed to his feet, gazing down at Joseph who lay on the ground helpless, James launched himself at him, jumping on his back. Unfortunately, this sicko outweighed James and was able to push him off before violently kicking him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground. Joseph rolled over and attempted to push himself up but was instantly pinned down by this sadist stomping down on his back. A loud crack was heard followed by a bloodcurdling cry from Joseph. James attempted to push himself up but had the wind completely knocked out of him. He looked up, his vision blurry to see this man towering over Joseph. He put his foot on his head and began to press down. Joseph wailed in pain as James struggled to stand up. Joseph's cries became earsplitting as the pressure began to cause his skull to crack.

James crawled on all fours toward the axe and was almost within reach when the man turned around to see him and kicked him in the face, causing blood to spill from his nose. James fell backwards, realizing he was only a few feet away from the door but was unwilling to leave his fellow officer. He climbed back to his feet and slammed this maniac to the ground before he could do anymore damage to Joseph. "You son of a bitch!" He yelled, attempting to strangle him. James had completely forgotten how he had been outweighed the last time as the masked assailant grabbed him by the neck, pulled him up and slammed him head first into a metal pole.

All sounds faded out. Everything faded to black. James slowly slipped into darkness and then nothing.

 **Author's note: Yikes. Almost a month. Sorry about that. Work got crazy hectic, we lost yet ANOTHER manager, 3 cashiers have quit so we're short staffed as hell. I honestly just didn't have the energy to tend to this story and for that I greatly apologize. I'll try to get the others done in a more timely fashion.**


	6. The Praying Game

It was deep into the night when Lightoller arrived at the bridge to relieve both Harold and William from their watch. "Have Mr. Moody and Mr. Boxhall not returned yet?" He asked. "I would have expected them back by the the time their watch began."

"No, no sight of them." Harold said.

"Oh, for the love of God." Charles muttered. "How many officers are going to go missing before we reach New York? I may end up having to pull stewards off their duties just to cover these bloody watches."

"Now, now, Mr. Lightoller." Murdoch said. "I'm sure James and Joseph are on their way back."

"Well, until they return, I'll stand watch."

"Are you sure?" Harold asked.

"Yes. I'll definitely have some choice words for them upon their arrival anyways. You two go rest."

"Very well." William said as he and Harold turned toward the officer's quarters. "Cheerio."

Charles stood watch in place of James and Joseph, grumbling to himself. He had assured himself that he would be giving Moody and Boxhall a severe tongue lashing upon their arrival. "Mr. Lightoller?" Charles heard a voice from behind him. He turned his head to see Jack Phillips standing by, looking somewhat perturbed. "Any word on Mr. Bride?" He asked. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Phillips." Lightoller responded. "Mr. Moody and Mr. Boxhall still haven't come back with any word either."

"But they're supposed to be on watch."

"I assume they might have just gotten turned around coming back. Whether or not they found Mr. Bride is uncertain as of yet."

"You don't think they might be… hurt or something?"

"Oh, no. Mr. Boxhall is as sturdy as a horse and Mr. Moody's like a little bullet. They're fine."

"Alright. Well, if… if you hear any word of Mr. Bride then…"

"Mr. Phillips, should anything come up regarding Mr. Bride I will make sure that you are the first to be notified."

Jack nodded his head. "Thank you, Mr. Lightoller." He said. "You're very welcome. Now, I suggest you hit the sheets. Early start tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. Have a nice night."

Meanwhile, down in cargo, James' eyes slowly fluttered open. His vision was a complete blur and he was completely disoriented, only able to make out that he was in a dimly lit room. His senses were slowly returning to him, the first being the searing pain tearing through his head. He was on the floor. How did that happen? Why was his head pounding with such agony? He felt something liquid-like on his neck. Sweat maybe? Maybe a water pipe had gone berserk? As his vision returned, he was able to make out a red liquid pooling around his head. Was it his blood? His head was hurting but it felt more internal than external. He couldn't feel anything that felt like an open wound. Turning his head slowly to look around, his eyes widened instantly when he caught sight of the source of the blood. Laying next to him was the crushed up remains of Joseph's head. Slow as it had been, it all came flooding back to him. They had been attacked. By who, he was unsure. All he was capable of remembering was a dirty gas mask. They were so close to making it out if not for James' suggestion that they attempt to identify who was under the mask when they thought he was dead.

Almost as if someone had injected it into him, an adrenaline rush slammed into James like freight train. He quickly attempted to climb to his feet only to slip and fall right back into the puddle of blood. He hit the floor with a loud thud. As he tried with haste to get back to his feet he heard what sounded like boxes being shuffled about not too far away. His heart was racing with fear once again. He didn't want to leave the corpse of his fellow officer's body behind but knew he had to get away. Without a second thought, James pushed himself up and forced himself towards the cargo door, opening it just in time to turn around and see the mask man return from behind a set of freight. James quickly pushed his way through the door and slammed it shut behind him as he ran as quickly as his legs could carry him. Not stopping for even a moment, his breath became shallow as he sprinted on. He felt a stitch pierce through his side, slowing him down considerably but not halting him.

As he darted through the empty hallways of steerage, he tripped over himself, landing on his stomach. Overwhelmed by the physical exertion, the blunt slam to the floor and unable to remove the sight of Joseph's pulverized skull from his mind, the contents of his stomach spewed from his mouth all over the ground. He looked up to see passengers in their nightwear poking their heads out from behind the doors and stepping out to see what all was going on. His eyes watered as he looked around at all the confused faces. They were murmuring all sorts of things. "Isn't that one of the officers?" "Is that blood on his shirt?" "What's he doing down here?" Swamped in humiliation and terror, James quickly pushed himself up and darted forward, nearly slipping in his own vomit. Although his ability to think clearly had been severely clouded, he tried navigating himself down the corridors where he knew he would be least likely to run into anymore passengers. Questions would already be raised among those who had witnessed him.

Making it outside at last, James was met by a wave of cold air that felt good against his burning hot and sweaty skin. Knowing he was closer to the bridge now offered a sense of comfort if only just for a moment.

Charles stood watch, appearing to be calm and collected while internally teeming with vexation over James and Joseph not returning when they should have. They have no idea the kind of reprimand they're in for, he thought. They would be doing a double shift if he had anything to say about it. "Mr. Lightoller!" He heard a distressed voice call. He immediately knew it was James by the sound of his voice. "Mr. Moody, I hope you have an explanation for why you - Oh, dear God!" Charles turned around to see James frantically running towards him. Right off the bat, he noticed the blood on James' collar, neck and down the front of his suit. "Mr. Moody, what on God's earth happened to you?!" Charles asked, grabbing ahold of James by his shoulders. James was completely incoherent due to his intense sobs, gasps for air and wailing like a cat that had just had its tail stepped on. "Mr. Moody, calm down!" Charles persuaded. "What's going on out here?" William said, stomping down out into the wheelhouse in just his trousers, shirt and socks. "Is everything alright?" Harold said, fully dressed. "Dear Lord! What happened to James?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Charles answered to Harold.

James' knees caved as he clutched onto Charles, trying to hold himself up. His screaming and crying sent chills up the spines of everyone, included Robert Hichens who stood by unable to do anything but watch the scene unfolding before him. "Take him into the officer's lounge, Mr. Lightoller." William commanded. "We don't need to wake the captain. Mr. Lowe, go wake up Mr. Wilde. I'll be with you shortly." The officers followed William's command with Charles clutching onto James and gently pulling him into the direction of the lounge while Harold rushed back down the corridor to Henry's room.

William retreated back to his cabin to finish getting dressed before heading to the officer's lounge to see what the problem was. When he arrived, Harold and Henry were already present. "Is he alright?" William said to Henry. "Not sure. He's been a mess since I got here." James was seated with a blanket wrapped around him, shivering with fright. Charles returned to the lounge with a cup of tea. "Here, drink this." He said, holding the cup to Moody's lips and tilting it slightly. After a couple sips, James' breathing seemed to return to normal rate. "James, what happened?" Henry asked. James' mouth quivered as though he was trying to talk but no words came out. "James, please, say something." Harold urged. "There was so much blood." The words finally came out of his mouth. "It was everywhere. Their bodies… were.. were so…. so… destroyed. I.. I can't even… Oh, Joseph!" The other officer's eyes nearly bulged from their heads. "What happened to Joseph?" William asked. James looked even more distressed as he tried to make out the words as he took the teacup in both his hands. "His face. I could see in his face… fear. That's the last I saw of his face before… before he…" James was unaware of how much pressure he had put on the teacup as he squeezed it between his hands until the point that it completely shattered between his palms. Upon breaking the cup James let out a ghastly cry of agony, not so much from the cup breaking in his hands but from revisiting the memory of seeing Joseph's head turn into a bloody, pulpy mess.

"Who did it James?" Henry asked. James shook his head. "I couldn't see who it was, they were hidden behind a mask." James said, pushing out his first full sentence. "Where were you when this happened?" Charles asked. "Cargo." James replied.

"Cargo? But nobody else besides an officer can enter cargo without clearance." Henry pointed out. "Sounds like we're dealing with a criminal here." Charles said. "Criminals don't care about regulations."

"Unless they were granted clearance by an officer beforehand." William said

"Did any of you grant anyone clearance to enter cargo today?" Henry asked. Everyone, including James, shook their heads quickly. "So how could they have entered cargo without clearance?"

"Unless Pitman or Boxhall gave them clearance." Harold interjected.

"Well, we can't exactly confront them on the matter now, can we?" Henry replied. "Now, we need to make sure this is fully contained. We don't need to ship full of passengers losing their marbles. Mr. Murdoch, I need you to alert the master at arms. We have to find out who is behind this and we need to make sure the passengers are safe. Mr. Lowe, do a sweep of the first class deck, make sure everyone's alright but don't say anything about this. I'll have the stewards do a walkthrough of the second and third class. If need be, we will implement a tighter curfew."

Henry let out a huff as he turned to step out of the room. "What do we do in the meantime?" Charles asked. Henry stopped, hung his head, turned around and looked back to Charles and the rest of the officers. "We pray." He said before turning back and exiting the lounge.


	7. Fear's Cold Hand On You

Henry was quick to remove himself from the current situation. He stepped out onto the bridge, hoping for the cool night air to replenish his thought process. Henry had put up with his fair share of crazies in his life but none of them were blood-spilling madmen. As far as he could recall, there was no protocol on that when he first joined the White Star Line. Despite the gruesome information James had given him, which was still not quite sufficient enough to fully understand, there was still a question that loomed over his head: If there was really someone down in cargo how did they get down there in the first place? Even an ordinary crew member would need to receive clearance from an officer. The only plausible thing that came to mind was a stowaway.

"I think that's as much information as we're gonna get out of him." Henry spun around to see William and Charles standing behind him, both looking perplexed. "I can't even begin to figure who would be so inclined to commit such savage acts or even why." Charles said. "But I don't think he's lying." Henry had no reason to question whether James was telling the truth or not. Sure, James was a bit of a character, this much was true, but he was definitely not one to lie about something like that. "I'm more interested in who did it." Henry said. "It's restricted access down there, not just anyone can go into cargo."

"Well, we don't exactly have anything concrete to go on." William responded. "All James said was there was a man in a mask."

"That's our only lead." Charles added.

Henry sighed as he massaged his temples in frustration. "Alright, so what do you propose we do?"

Charles and William looked at each other, hoping the other had a solution. However, they were both completely stumped. "I'm not sure." William finally said. "But whatever the solution, we need to ensure the passengers remain unaware of what's going on. We don't need to generate any panic in the middle of the ocean."

"And how do you propose we keep this under wraps?" Henry asked, seemingly annoyed. "Who knows how many passengers might have seen James panicking through the halls on his way back here."

"It's the middle of the night, Henry. They're more than likely asleep."

Before Henry could reply, a steward came rushing towards the three men. Without offering them a chance to ask what the issue was, the young lad said "There's several passengers down in steerage who are seem rather irate. Perhaps one of you should go down there and sort this out." The three men looked back and forth at each other. "I'll be down there in a moment." Charles finally said. "How bad of a commotion is it?"

"Just talk. Rather livid talk but they all saw one of the officers come crashing through not long ago with blood on him and nearly slipped in his own throw-up."

So much for keeping the situation under wraps. "Very well. I'll be on my way in just a minute. In the meantime, do what you can to keep passengers calm."

"Yes, sir." The steward walked off as Lightoller turned to face William. "Irony is a cruel mistress." He whispered.

"I think you're thinking of fate." William corrected.

"Fate too."

Meanwhile, back in the officer's lounge, James had frenzied himself into a state of exhaustion. Almost as if he were intoxicated, he eventually found himself passing out on the couch. All throughout, Harold stayed close to the young officer. While the details of what James had witnessed still remained unclear to him, as well as the other officers, the blood stains on James' collar and neck certainly didn't tell any lies. He stared at the red blotches, generating pictures in his head of whatever graphic event James had witnessed. Even more uneasy was the thought that there was a deranged lunatic on board who was going about slicing people to bits.

William quietly slipped into the room. "Is he okay?" He whispered. "Well, he's out like a light." Harold responded.

"Did he by chance say anything to you?"

"No. He just laid down and eventually nodded off. Where's Charles and Henry?"

"Henry's just outside. Charles went down to third class."

"What for?"

William pulled a white cloth from the pocket of his greatcoat and wiped the accumulating sweat from his brow. "Apparently, James generated a bit of a crowd down there."

"What? How so?"

"I don't know the full details but a steward did say that people were commenting on the blood on his shirt."

Harold let out a huff of frustration. With even the officers not having a full-on grasp of the situation at hand, the last thing they needed was for any of this to reach the passengers. "What do we do?" He asked. William wiped his brow again. "Mr. Lightoller is on his way down to third class as we speak to contain the hullabaloo."

"Let's hope his attempts are successful."

Down in steerage, Charles was greeted a moderately small group of people, dressed in their night clothes, who were in the midst of a ruckus. Although some spoke in languages unfamiliar to him, it didn't take an interpreter for him to know what they were talking about. Despite not having all the requisite details that would have helped him out, Charles wanted to approach the situation with as much propriety and care as possible. "Excuse me, everyone!" He called out, catching their attention. "Quiet down, please! Now, what's all this commotion about?"

A small middle-aged lady in a dark green nightgown with blonde hair peaking out under her nightcap stepped forward. "I heard what sounded like someone in distress," She began in a thick Irish accent. "And I opened the door to see what it was and I found one of your officers cowering on the floor." An elderly Swedish man threw in his two cents. "I heard a loud thud just right outside my door and as soon as I opened it I was greeted with the smell of vomit!" Charles immediately took notice of the small puddle of throw-up that someone had clearly already stepped in. "And then I saw blood!" A large Italian man chimed. At the very mention of blood, this seemed to raise the fuss once more. Knowing this would only incite speculation, Charles needed to figure a way to nip the situation in the bud even if it meant telling a lie.

"Alright, alright, quiet down!" He yelled. The hallways fell silent once again. "Now, listen. I can assure you the situation rests tightly with myself and the rest of the officers on board. Near as we can tell, Mr. Moody simply got lost aboard ship which resulted in a panic attack."

"What about the blood then?" Asked the little Irish woman.

"Mr. Moody may have suffered an injury when he fell. We will have a nurse look into it. For now, please return to your cabins. You can be confident that there is nothing wrong on board and that all is quite well. As second officer in charge aboard this magnificent vessel, I give you my word on that."

The passengers slowly turned to go back into their cabins with skeptical expressions drawn out on their faces. Charles wasn't entirely sure they bought his words as even he could admit that was hardly a convincing lie but he had to think of something off the top of his head right there on the spot. Regardless, he needed clarity on the situation himself. If lies were to turn into truth, it would be better for him to know what all was going on.

As a steward returned to the scene with a mop and bucket to clean up the remnants of James' last meal, Charles began to recall James telling him that the incident in question occurred in cargo. Thirsty for more information, Charles decided to venture to cargo to get a better idea of what James was losing his marbles over.

Charles was not easy to intimidate or otherwise frighten. Reluctant he could be but that was often when his judgement was challenged. Very little truly scared him and he was considered to be very bold when making decisions that others would soon rather not have to make. However, even as he ambled seemingly confident down into the belly of the ship, he couldn't shake this uneasy feeling that seemed to inch up his spine little by little which only seemed to intensify once he reached the cargo doors. Just as he reached out to open them, he kicked something. Looking down, he caught sight of something silvery in the feeble light. He picked it up and immediately recognized it as a flashlight. It was dinged up some but was still in good working condition at which point Charles took notice of the red footsteps that scurried in the opposite direction, becoming more and more faint with each step. He stopped to give himself a chance to rethink his decision to carry on by himself. Truly, it would have been wise to have another officer with him. Still, he figured he had already made it down here. May as well get a move on.

Without a second more of hesitation, he quickly pulled open the door and stepped into cargo, quietly shutting the door behind him. He took a moment to observe the space around him. It was dead silent. Not so easy for an assailant to hide his footsteps but the poor lighting definitely made it easy for one to conceal themselves in any shadows. With that, Charles found himself relying on his sense of hearing as his initial defense. Flicking on the flashlight, he shined its bright but small light over each area he felt someone could be waiting. In all directions, the coast was clear. Each step, light. Each breath, silent. If some lunatic was waiting down here, Charles didn't want to give away his position. As if for comedic measure, those attempts were thwarted by Charles slipping and falling hard on his backside, followed by a loud grunt as he hit the concrete floor, the flashlight falling from his grip. "Ow!" He groaned as a tried to push himself back up.

"I think that accelerated the aging process." He muttered. As he regained his sense of his surroundings, he noticed the back of his pants felt wet, as though he slipped in a puddle of water. He reached around for the flashlight, that had seemingly rolled off into the depths of oblivion never to be seen again. "Oh, damn." He whispered. As he felt around for it, he heard what sounded like a box falling over. It sounded far enough away but he couldn't begin to guess which direction it was coming from. He became a little more frantic as he searched about. Finally, he felt his hand clutch something. Gripping onto it, he felt his middle finger touch what felt like a switch. Flicking the flashlight on he quickly examined the floor around him and quickly clasped his hand over his mouth. He had definitely landed in a puddle but it wasn't a puddle of water. The red liquid he was now sitting in sent a tsunami of shivers up his spine. Charles felt his own blood run cold, his heart racing at the speed of light and his hands quiver in horror as he shined the light onto the source of blood pool.

There, in the small, shivering spotlight, were the remains of Boxhall's obliterated skull. Charles wanted to scream but his voice was reduced to nothing short of a rasp. Paralysis had him by the chin. He could feel his soul and body separate. If fear were a person, it would be frigid, cruel and sadistic. That's what it felt like to Charles. Like fears cold hands gripped him in its merciless clutches, laughing maniacally at him.

In him, the only sense that seemed to remain was his hearing. The sounds of approaching footfalls seemed to ignite a surge of adrenaline that seemed to call his spirit to rejoin with his body. Pushing himself back using his hands and feet, he frantically shined his light around the area, waiting to see whoever it was who was coming towards him. That was the problem though. He was unable to figure which direction they were coming from. Feeling around his jacket and pants, he realized he was without a pistol. If it came to it, he would have to fight with his bare hands. Scrambling quickly to his feet he prepared himself for a physical altercation, clinching one of his fists and clutching the flashlight tightly in his hand, preparing to use it with blunt force.

Suddenly, the foot falls stopped. The silence thickened back up once more. At this point, fear, which was once a stranger to him, held him tightly in its grips. Charles slowly took a few steps back, cautiously shining the light around the room as he backed away toward the door. A few more steps back, he felt himself back into something. Afraid to turn around, he used his free hand to explore the object he was pressed again, unable to make out what it could be… until he felt movement.

Quickly spinning around and aiming his light directly ahead of him, he was met with the ghastly sight of a person hiding behind a gas mask in tattered overalls. Thinking fast, he jumped back, narrowly missing the pick axe he wasn't even made aware of until just then. "AHH!" He yelled as he lost his balance and landed back on his rear end. The unidentified masked man raised up his axe and swung downward with Charles just dodging it as he quickly rolled over. Managing to climb back up to his feet, he dodged another swing at him. Then another. And another. On the fourth swing, he ducked, allowing the axe to lodge itself into a large crate. With the opportunity at his advantage as his assailant attempted to free his weapon, Charles quickly dashed by, throwing over some boxes in the process in hopes of buying himself a few extra seconds.

As he slammed his entire body into the door, a new fear dug its nails into him. The door was jammed. "NOOOO! DAMN IT! FUCK!" Charles cried out in frustration as he turned the handle and continuously slammed his body against the door. "C'mon, damn you!" He cursed. With one strong thrash, Charles was able to force the door open, landing onto his hands and knees in the process. Using the heels of his feet, he swung the door closed only for the axe to come swinging in, blocking it from closing all the way. With both feet on the door, Charles used what strength he was able to muster up to push against the door. For a moment, he thought the battle was lost. His muscles were getting tired and he didn't know how much longer he could fight it for. Placing his hands against the wall behind him, he used all of his bodily strength to press against the door. Then a thought struck him. He would have to be quick about it as speed was the difference between life and death at this point.

He momentarily relieved pressure from the door, allowing this brute to push it open even further. Just as he was able to stick his head through, Charles swiftly kicked the door inward, allowing the corner of it to smash this maniac in the face, briefly disabling him and causing him to drop his weapon. With the opportunity before him, Charles quickly jumped up and slammed the door shut, locking away this crazed man inside cargo as he ran back to the bridge.

Though feeling slightly victorious for a moment, the realization of what was truly at hand quickly flooded his mind. Charles had no idea how he was going to break this to the other officers. Even worse - how would he break this to the passengers?

 ***Author's note: Wow. That was an agonizing wait for which I apologize for. I ended up falling into a pit of writer's block and despite my best efforts I was only able to do maybe one or two paragraphs(if that)at a time. Believe me, I tried my hardest to get the momentum flowing but it really was a battle. Hopefully, that will explain the long wait for this chapter. Once again, I apologize.***


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